The Dying Rose
by BlueBeauty
Summary: Erik is dead. Christine comes back to the Paris Opera House to say her final goodbye. She must leave all of her memories behind with her true love. One Shot...R


A/N: I decided to write this one shot phic because I want to know for myself what Christine would do if Erik died. Please understand that I love E/C happy endings and I am not trying to encourage sad phan-phics...R&R  
  
She walked slowly among the brightly colored throng milling around the Parisian streets. The winter season forced her to wear a heavy cloak and hood. Her dress was beautifully done. The skirts were full and the bodice was drawn tight. Tiny diamonds were sewn into the sleeves which were clasped around her wrists with even smaller rubies. She seemed inconsequential in the growing twilight of the evening. It was not just her beauty that made her stand out, it was that she was dressed all in black. She was a woman of tragedy and mourning. It was apparent to all who saw her. The woman was also clutching tightly onto the most beautiful red rose...  
  
Christine walked cautiously in the dark of the cellars beneath the Paris Opera House with only the small light of her lantern to ban the darkness. No longer did she have a guardian by her side to guide her through the shadows. She was alone. The slight cold draft played with her skirts. She drew her cloak closer to her body. His home had always been cold to her. But then so had life. Cold and cruel. Raoul had died on the Requiem along with the crew when it had sunk mysteriously along the way to their destination only two months ago. She had mourned out of respect for the dead and nothing more. Not returning to Erik had not been her choice. No, it had been Raoul who had enforced their reasoning for her never to return. Like a child she had convinced herself that what he said was right. Raoul had told her over and over that Erik had verbally abused her, imprisoned, killed people for her, kidnapped her, and almost made her marry him against his will. She had wanted to believe that, that was all there was to it, but there had been so much more. Erik had done all this for her out of love. A sacrificial love. Christine stumbled and placed her hand on the stone wall to steady herself. If he had been there he would have captured her waist with his large hands to keep her from tripping. She had desperately wanted to return to Erik, but did not know how to approach her old teacher and love, for she felt like she had betrayed him. A shadow met her around the next corner. Her heart caught in her throat and her lips shaped the name of the man she had once loved with all the passion and fire in her soul. But she was disappointed. It was only Nadir. She could make out the darkly tanned Persian's eyes in the shadows. They were filled with sadness.  
  
"Allah has gotten you here safely my lady," He whispered to her. "Was your journey pleasant?" She only nodded in reply. She had ordered a carriage, and had her servants pack her bags as soon as she had read the news. The journey from the Chagny mansion in the countryside of France had taken only a day to get to Paris. For that she was thankful. Nadir looked her over and then slowly motioned to her to follow him. "We will take one of the boats," He said softly. Christine followed mutely. All she could think about was the newspaper article she had read yesterday morning. For some reason she had felt compelled to read about the society happenings in the paper and when she turned to that page there at the bottom was the words she had hoped to never hear or read in her lifetime. _**Erik is Dead**_. The words seemed to shoot up off the page at her. Her world had been enveloped in a cold fog, and she had fainted. When she had been awakened with smelling salts by a concern doctor she had hoped to find that the news was only a memory from a nightmare she'd had. But it was true. He was dead. A tiny diamond of a tear slowly rolled down her porcelain cheek. Christine kept her head down as she walked. Her heart was dying inside of her. It beat with cries of anguish that screamed at her the truth. Erik was dead.

Nadir gently grasped her arm and pulled her over to a boat on the edge of the shore. The waters looked as dark and forbidding as they always had. Was it possible for the darkness to grow even darker? She didn't know, but it seemed that way to her. When He had been living his lair had seemed to hold a certain light quality even though the surroundings were full of shadows. Erik had been the light to the darkness. Nadir helped her into the light water craft and he pushed the boat off from shore and climbed in, to pole them to the other side. Christine looked down at the waters. She remembered looking down at the waters only two years ago when she had been innocent and free of mourning. What was she left with now? An empty and lonely heart that ached for her true love. It cried out for Him like the flower crying for water. He had been her life, soul, and sustenance. And now He was gone.  
  
The boat hit the other shore lightly. Christine was gently jerked from her thoughts. Nadir offered his hand after he had climbed lithely onto firm ground. She took it and he helped her up.  
  
"Erik would be honored that you came," Nadir gazed at her.  
  
"He would be honored to know that a good friend had cared for him while he lay dying," Christine said softly. "He did not even tell me he was ill,"  
  
"He did not wish you to know," Nadir looked away and studied a richly carved pillar that supported the tall ceiling. "His ways were strange and even I did not understand him some of the time," The Persian's eyes were dark with pain. "His last days were horrible to see," Christine drew in a shuddered and emotion filled breath. Erik had died with out her by his side. How she wished she had known about him being ill. She would have flown to his side in an instant.  
  
"Tell me what happened," She asked softly, looking shyly up at the Persian.  
  
"Are you sure you want to hear my lady?" He asked her. Christine closed her eyes and nodded, fighting back tears.  
  
"You know he was always stubborn in his ways and thinking. He would not let me fetch a doctor when he began to get weak. He would barely tolerate my assistance in the end. I believe that he simply gave up living. So he hardly ate or drank much of anything. He steadily became weaker and weaker from the lack of nutrients. He died at dawn on the 7th day of the second week of his illness. He said to me 'I always thought you would die before me, Daroga. I suppose I was wrong. I hate being wrong,'" Nadir said smiling slightly. Christine had tears streaming down her cheeks. "And then he said something I will never forget. He said to me, 'I hope she will forgive me, Nadir. I hope she will. I do not think she ever will, but I hope with all of my twisted heart that she does,'"  
  
So that was how the great Phantom died. It seemed like the wrong ending for a man who had gone through so much in his life. He had endured beatings by the gypsies that imprisoned him and made him perform as a hideous sideshow. He had endured being left and shunned by everyone he knew, and yet he had come through it all...only to die alone and loveless. Christine clenched her fist. How dare she leave Erik? She was not worthy of his pitiful cries of her name, his love, or his passion and devotion for her.  
  
"Oh Erik," Christine whispered aloud. He had been talking about her. She opened her eyes to reveal tortured looking cerulean eyes. There was a mist of tears in the Persian's eyes also. "Take me to him?" She whispered. Nadir dipped his head in compliance. Memories came back to Christine like a flood as she entered Erik's house behind the Persian. She bit back tears. The silence was what frightened her the most. There had never been silence in Erik's home before, only beautiful melancholy music. Nadir led her through the house back to Erik's bedchamber.  
  
He pushed open the dark mahogany door and let her enter alone and unaccompanied. The room was cold, and she could see her breath as she inhaled and exhaled. Erik was lying in his bed as if sleeping. She rushed to him, barely hearing the sound of Nadir shutting the door. She kneeled by the bed just drinking her fill of him in with her eyes. She slowly lowered the hood of her black cloak down off her damp blonde curls. Her blue eyes welling with tears.  
  
"Erik," She whispered, finally able to speak his name. He looked so much older to her now as he lay in the eternal sleep. His white silk mask lay against his cold brow. His ebony hair was slightly streaked with grey. The bed sheet and silk blanket lay over his bare chest and lower body. His hand lay draped over the blanket and the edge of the bed. She took his hand in her own. He was so cold that she almost jerked back. His skin was a frosty pale coloring of death. What she would have given to have him back in her arms. She would have given her soul to the devil and his demons for Erik to be able to hold her and speak to her. She placed a soft kiss in his cold palm. Tears flowed off her wet cheeks and down onto her black silk dress.  
  
"My love," She cried. She buried her face into his hand which hung limply off the bed. Cold tears slid down her cheeks and made his hand glisten. She smell that faint scent which always made her heart beat faster, cinnamon and spices. It was so faint she could barely make it out. She remembered the first time she had ever heard him say her name. The word had escaped his lips with smooth precision. His golden eyes had glowed with passion and care that she had not even known existed within him. And that was only when he said her name or gazed at her.  
  
Christine slowly raised her head and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand still clasped in hers. He looked so stern in death, it reflected what had happen to him while he was living. She lightly traced the wrinkles that lined his brow with her fingers. Her fingers stopped on the edge of his white mask. It seemed like a mockery to the dead to remove it. Yet she desperately wanted to see it one last time. To forever imprint in her mind the thing that made him suffer so much in his lifetime. She gently slid the mask of his still face. She gripped his hand a little tighter as the mask slipped off his cheek. She sucked in a breath. The sight was still the same, the same gruesome rippling in the skin, and sight of the skull uncovered by flesh that had not grown there. She shuddered. She remembered the feeling of Erik's strong grasp on her wrists as he pulled her away from his face when she had ripped it away that fateful night. The sounds of his weeping and cursing her still made her want to cry out against the pain she had caused him. She, like so many others had turned and rejected him. She looked away as she replaced the mask, in respect for the dead. She turned her eyes over his form in the bed. He was so thin from the illness. He was a mere shadow of his former self. He used to be magnificent, and yet now he looked so...different. She smoothed his black hair off his cold forehead.  
  
"I miss you," Christine whispered gazing longingly at him. His eyes were closed. She wondered if the light had gone out of his golden orbs when he died or was it long before he died...when she left him standing alone in the darkness while she and Raoul rowed to safety. She looked up slowly around the room remembering the few days she had spent down in the lair. She had entered his lair with a shy demeanor and exited a different person. Not that he had physically touched her. He had been afraid to touch her. Him, the man who had slain men without thought, afraid to touch her, a tiny young woman. His love for her had spoken volumes through his every action. An ebony envelope laying on a mahogany writing desk. She cautiously slipped off the bed and walked to it. It was cool to the touch, and felt like expensive heavy parchment paper. She slipped the black ribbon off the envelope and slid it open with a letter opener from the desk. As soon as she opened the letter and saw the familiar flowing script, and began reading it, she had to sit down in the chair by the desk. The letter read;  
  
_My Dearest Christine,  
  
I can leave you nothing that will show you how much love you. You are already a wealthy woman, and you can afford anything you wish, but I leave you my home, to be your solace in times of agony and pain. The darkness can be more of a friend than that of the light, Mon Ange. I will watch you from wherever God places me, for I am not worthy of heaven as you are. I am destined for the darker places. Please forgive me for the treacherous things I did to you and for you, Mon Amour. I do not think that anyone could forgive me for the crimes I committed, but I am asking it of you. May the Angels keep you and watch over you, while I cannot.  
  
All My love,  
_  
**_Erik_**  
  
The letter fell from her hands back into her lap. Another tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
"I do forgive you my love," She said softly looking over at the figure in the bed. "Make no mistake about that," Something dropped out of the envelope and fell to the floor. She bent down and picked it up. It was a silver key etched with roses. A small note was attached. It read;  
  
_This key unlocks a gift for you my dear...look for it in your room on the vanity table_  
  
Christine gazed at it curiously, turning it around and around to look at it more closely. Suddenly with resolve she didn't know she had she stood and walked from the freezing room, opening his door and closing it softly behind her. She startled the Persian who was standing with his arms crossed across his chest, leaning against the wall, waiting for her to say her last goodbyes. Without any explanation whatsoever she hurried to her room, leaving the Daroga behind. She stopped in front of the room that Erik had given her for her to stay in when she visited him. She slowly pushed the door open.  
  
The scent of perfume, and dead roses fill the air around her as she stepped into her old room. The room was the same as it had been when she had last been in it. She had been dressing to become a bride...an unwilling bride at that. Erik had left it as she had left it. A fine coat of dust covered everything and gossamer spider webs hung in the corners of the room. Her wedding dress was spread out over the bed. It was slightly yellowed. She brushed the dust and cobwebs off of it, but didn't pick it up. It was better not to disturb anything. Her wedding dress had been beautiful in it's prime. It's low neckline and drawn in bodice, added to the full skirt and delicate pearl beading made it look lovely. Any other bride would have been delight to get married in such a dress, but she had not.  
  
She had not known if she had loved Erik. Raoul had been such a strong comforting presence to her, that he had overwhelmed her senses. With Erik she could never make sense of him, Raoul was predictable, and understandable. Erik was loving and passionate. Raoul was loving...in a sense. He believed that a woman had a place to be a loving wife and a good mother to many children. Erik believed that a woman could do whatever she wished without the permission of a man. With Erik there had been no boundaries, and with Raoul, everything had limits. That was what scared her. It was like diving off a cliff with nothing to protect her from the sharp rocks below when she was with Erik. There were endless possibilities, opportunities with him. Both were so different, and yet she loved both of them equally. At least she thought she had. Now with both of them gone she knew in her heart who she truly had loved. It had been Erik all along.  
  
She lifted her eyes off the dress and went to her vanity table. There was a beautifully carved wooden box that was not covered in dust sitting on the table. She pushed the key into the lock and turned it. The lid opened revealing a small marble statue. She slipped it out of the heavy box and held it up to look at it. It was truly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Carved in marble was a small statue of a ballerina, arms out stretched to something unseen. The details were magnificent looking. Christine felt as if she were the ballerina as she looked at the marble girl's face. The ballerina's eyes were open, revealing large wide orbs. Her head was slightly tilted. The way she was holding her arms out seemed like she was longing intensely for whatever it was she saw in front of her. Her dance costume was lovely as well. Her hair was done up into a loose bun with a rose tucked into it. A tendril of a curl lay against her cheek in the most innocent looking way.  
  
"Oh Erik," She smiled through tears. "It's beautiful," She held the statue to her heart. "I will cherish it till I die," She slowly moved towards the door, gazing back at the room that held so many memories. She finally gathered the courage to close the door, and say goodbye to the things that once were reality. She walked back down the dark hall towards Erik's room. She paused outside the door when she saw the quizzical look from the Persian.  
  
"I'll only be a few moments more,"  
  
"Take all the time you need, my lady," He answered.  
  
"Thank-you Nadir," She reached out and turned the knob to open the door. "You've been very kind to me," Nadir dipped his head in response. She once again entered Erik's room. The sight of the body on the bed made her tremble. She sat by his side. A memory suddenly came back to her...  
  
_ Erik sat at his organ playing the scale for Christine during one of their many lessons together. As she reached the height of the scale, Erik suddenly ceased playing. She turned to look at him. She realized he was studying her with an intensity she shuddered at. She bit her lip out of habit when she was nervous.  
  
"No, no, my dear," Erik sighed and walked over to her. "You're still not following all of my instructions about posture," He lifted her chin slightly and placed his hands on her shoulders to adjust her pose. His hands stilled suddenly, and their eyes locked for an instant. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise. He had hardly ever touched her. His hands were warm through the material of her dress. He looked away quickly and cleared his throat. "Going on?" He asked softly, wishing to continue the lesson from where they left off. She nodded, still in shock at what had transpired. Where had all these different emotions come from?  
_  
Christine smiled at the memory. Her memories were so much nicer than the present. She looked back down at person whose soul had left him, but his flesh remained.  
  
"I am not worthy of your unconditional love Erik. I never was. I failed you and yet you still loved me even through the agony I caused you," She said softly, a lump formed in her throat. "I hope you will be able to forgive me as I have forgiven you...I love you," She stumbled over her words as she began to cry once more. "I always have... Oh Mon Amour," She sighed deeply. Her tiny form shuddered with sobs she was repressing. She saw a small flash of color in the corner of her eye and turned to see what it was. It was the rose she had brought with her. It lay innocently on the floor where she had dropped it when she had entered the room. She slowly got up to retrieve it, and when she had she held it tightly in her hand. She no long felt pain as the thorns dug into her palm. Her heart was crying out with enough pain that her senses couldn't take any more. She lay the rose in his hand, and placed that hand on his chest. The rose had unfurled to it's full splendor.  
  
"I hope you'll wait for me in Heaven Mon amour," She whispered placing a small kiss on his still lips. "Wait for me there," She smiled softly as she retreated back to the door. She looked back one last time at her love. The longing in her eyes reflected from her heart. She had enough "if only's" to last a lifetime. And wishing for Erik to be again among the living would not help her. But oh how she wished anyways. She would give anything to hear him say her name one last time...  
  
_"Christine Mon Rose..."_  
  
**_FIN_**


End file.
